


For Good Ends

by OzQueen



Category: Little Women Series - Louisa May Alcott
Genre: Begging, F/M, Frottage, Gentle femdom, Non-Penetrative Sex, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smutswap: Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 10:51:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18619159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/pseuds/OzQueen
Summary: What's transcendentalism without some discreet outdoor tumbles?





	For Good Ends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Delphi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphi/gifts).



 

* * *

 

The river is slow and green, flecked with dandelion fluff and willow catkins, the water rippling where the fish nudge for insects.

Jo watches the water, the sun on her back, Friedrich's chest warm and firm under her cheek. The remnants of their picnic have been pushed to the edges of their blanket, and the birds are watching for any opportunity to steal close and snatch crumbs.

Friedrich's fingers play lazily against Jo's back, tracing a seam in her dress, rubbing across the fraying stitches of a hasty patch at her waist, following a folded wrinkle in the chemise beneath.

Jo makes a sleepy sort of noise, which he echoes in soft agreement.

"Sleep, sleep," he murmurs contentedly. "Great nature's second course." For a moment Jo feels his hand leave her back as he gestures to the scene before them.

She tips her head against his shoulder to look up at him. "You cannot possibly be so weary," she says, trying not to laugh. "You snored from the moment the light went out to the moment the birds roused you."

"I snore?" he asks, only pretending to be surprised.

"Like a _bear_ ," Jo says, eyes wide.

He laughs heartily, and the birds take fright at the noise. Jo laughs too, resting her cheek down against his shoulder, but still watching him — watching the lines on his face deepen in his delight; the way his eyes shine at her.

"Jo," he says, and he raises her hand to his mouth and kisses her palm, and it seems the most natural thing in the world to kiss him, and to move her body on top of his, skirts gathering around her knees, her stockings sliding down and wrinkling as she levers herself above him.

His next words are lost in the gentle gasp of breath he makes against her mouth, and she shifts the angle of her hips, and through his clothing she can feel his body responding to her sudden closeness.

She smiles and offers a gentle bite to his lip. "I thought you were tired?"

He only hums, and kisses her again, his hand sliding under her skirts to rest on her thigh.

Jo glances over the top of his rumpled hair towards the lane, but they are hidden by green-leafed trees and the long grass rippling in the breeze, wildflowers bobbing their heavy heads.

Friedrich leans towards her, propped on one elbow, his right hand slowly working at her buttons.

She shifts her weight again and watches his lashes flutter, his fingers hesitating a moment as he draws a careful, measured breath.

When his hand slips inside the front of her dress to cup her breast, his skin hot through the thin cotton of her chemise, she leans towards him and kisses him, her fists gathering in the front of his shirt, her knees sliding further apart on the blanket beneath him.

He makes a breathless sort of noise and arches under her, his thumb rubbing over her nipple.

She is impatient for more, but she has long since known that there are few exceptions to the rule of anticipation and suspense making for a more satisfying finish. She rolls her hips slowly, and feels the friction of clothing pulling between her legs.

Friedrich's hands go seeking further beneath her skirts, but she catches them, laces her fingers through his and leans forward, pinning him in place, hips still rocking slowly.

"Wait," she breathes, and he gasps out a laugh and falls back.

In an almost infinite amount of things, Friedrich's patience outweighs her own — but not this. "Jo," he says, shifting beneath her. He presses his hips up to hers.

"Not yet," she says, breathless, giddy with the idea of making him wait.

He makes a low groan in the back of his throat and closes his eyes, his fingers tightening through hers. She leans into his hands and rolls her hips in a slow circle again, clothing sliding over her just so, just so.

She breathes out a sigh and arches her back, rocking against him no faster, but with deeper intent, knowing how to move against him to gain the most feeling; the most pleasure. She can feel him through his trousers, hard and hot, and she is wet and trembling without a touch beyond the friction of her own making.

His voice is rough. "Jo," he gasps, "please…"

"No, no not yet," she says, though she's sure she's almost pushed his patience to the limit, sure that he will tear his hands from her grip at any moment and roll her over and pin her to the blanket.

She wants to see how far she can take him without a union of the flesh; she wants to undo him without the bare touch of skin.

She hears him gasp something in German, and she laughs breathlessly and grinds down against him again, rolling her hips in slow circles. The sun shines down on her shoulders and the top of her head, and the breeze plays against the light fabric of her chemise, the grass and wildflowers rippling gently around her.

She looks down at Friedrich, who has his eyes closed against all of this — there is a line creased between his brows, his cheeks are flushed, and she can see sweat gleaming at the hollow of his throat. She squeezes his hands.

"Look at me," she says, and he blinks his eyes, his breath still coming in deep rasps of desperation. He brings her hand to his mouth again. She feels the hum of a moan against her palm, and his tongue licks over her skin, teasing thoughts of other acts and sending a raw shock down her spine.

"Please," he says again, closing his eyes as she rubs herself over the hard length of him.

"No, no, wait," she whispers, heat radiating through her body in rolling waves, warmer and warmer, building to something bigger and stronger.

He sucks two of her fingers into his mouth, wet and hot, and she feels another shock race through her, dragging her closer to the inevitable finish line.

The front of her dress still gapes open, and Friedrich wraps his hand into the front of her chemise and pulls her close to him, kissing her with rough impatience. His other hand grasps her hip, following her rolling movement once, twice, and then urging her down upon him with more force, more direction, his own hips rocking up into hers.

"Jo," he groans. "Please, now… please…"

"Yes," she says, her breath caught in her throat. "Yes, now. Now."

Friedrich moans against her mouth, his body shuddering under hers, his fingers tightening on her waist and in the soft fabric of her chemise. Satisfaction crashes over her like a wave, without hope of resistance, heat rolling from the centre of her body to the tips of her fingers. The air seems to still; the sun grows warmer; the birds fall silent.

She cups Friedrich's face in her hands and kisses his forehead; his hands fall to her waist, gentle and pliant now.

He slides his arms around her and eases himself back down onto the blanket, pulling her with him. She tucks her head under his chin and lets her weight settle upon him, her heart thundering in her ears, his chest still rising and falling with rapid breath.

"A peaceful afternoon, hm?" Friedrich says, once he has finally caught his breath. His fingers once again trail up and down her back. "That is what you promised me."

She closes her eyes, the sun warm through the back of her dress, the scent of green grass heavy in the air. "A peaceful afternoon?" she asks."Are you sure that's what I said? That doesn't sound like me at all, Fritz."

He laughs. "This is true, this is true." His hand smooths over her back. "Then I must believe that all this teasing and waiting was for revenge."

She tips her head back to look at him with a grin, squinting against the sun. "Revenge? Surely not."

"You do not even attempt a look of innocence," he accuses. "You take this out on your poor husband because he snores like a bear."

Jo gives a loud peal of laughter, and he grabs her tightly and rolls her over, pinning her to the blanket, laughing with her, kissing her face and her neck and the palms of her hands.

"And?" he says, looking down at her fondly. "We are even?"

"For now, perhaps," Jo says, trying to sound stern. "But try and snore again tonight, and see what happens to you tomorrow."

He laughs, and kisses her again. "Promises, promises," he says.

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from an essay by Georg Christoph Tobler -- often attributed to Goethe -- titled Die Natur, which contains so many potentially punny titles it's unfair. (The opening line is _Nature! We are surrounded and embraced by her: powerless to separate ourselves from her, and powerless to penetrate beyond her._ ) 
> 
> In the end I went with something much shorter and safer, but much chortling was had over some of the other potential choices. You can find a full English translation [here](https://mathcs.clarku.edu/huxley/UnColl/Nature/Goet.html), though this is one of the pages which attributes the essay to Goethe.
> 
> The summary is taken directly from Delphi's smutswap letter/prompt list. :)


End file.
